


The Assessment

by psmithery



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:11:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psmithery/pseuds/psmithery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/kinkme_merlin/21103.html?thread=20938863#t20938863">for a prompt</a> at kinkme_merlin, wherein Merlin must report to the council as to the dimensions and *ahem* functioning of Arthur's cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Assessment

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first piece of fanfiction that I'd ever posted and it ended up being rather crackier than I had ever intended. Also, Geoffrey is my hero.
> 
> If anyone wants to write a sequel (such as a Gwen/Morgana sequel), please feel free to do so, but drop me a line at [my livejournal account](http://psmithery.livejournal.com/) just to let me know. :)
> 
> Also posted [here](http://psmithery.livejournal.com/2926.html) on my livejournal.

Merlin was in hell. Or dreaming. He must be, there could be no other explanation for it. It was a hideous, hideous nightmare.

“Eight inches, you say?” asked Uther, a mildly impressed frown on his face, “Remarkable.”

Beside Uther, Arthur was staring resolutely at the wall behind Merlin’s head, face perfectly impassive save for two bright blotches of colour high on his cheekbones. They grew slightly brighter with Uther’s words.

“Indeed, sire,” Gaius said, with infuriating calmness, “I can confirm it, though bear in mind, this is only when it is tumescent.”

Merlin glanced at Gaius with a slightly manic expression on his face. _When on earth had he ever seen Arthur h- .... in such a state?_ Gaius smiled encouragingly at him.

Merlin coughed. “Yes sire, eight inches when fully...”

He flapped his hand vaguely in front of him, attempting to convey the dimensions of Arthur’s cock without actually picturing it when it had been measured, nestling thick and heavy against the meticulously marked seamstresses’ tape.

“Erect?” offered Geoffrey pleasantly.

Merlin coughed again. _Do not think about it. Do Not._

“Yes, um... fully e-erect.”

Silence stretched out through the chamber, disturbed only by the faint rustle of wool and the creak of leather boots.

“And?” Uther sounded impatient.

“Five inches around,” Merlin mumbled, this time swirling his hand a little. _And hot and red and-_

“When you say ‘around’ are you referring to its girth?” Georffrey asked, quill poised over the piece of parchment in front of him. Merlin nodded jerkily.

“And at what point along the prince’s manhood did you measure?”

“At the base.”

“Excellent,” said Geoffrey. He sounded offensively pleased. “Pray, continue.”

Merlin shifted his feet a little.

“Well, errr... When it’s not, um, erect,” his voice wobbled.

“When it is flaccid?”

Merlin would have probably hit Geoffrey if he wasn’t feeling so embarrassed.

“Yes, when it is flaccid it is... ah, threeincheslongandtwoinchesaround,” he said in a rush.

One of the noblemen sitting further down the table peered up towards him.

“What was that boy? Speak up!” he said in the half-shout of the hearing-impaired. Merlin suppressed a groan.

“Three. Inches. Long. And. Two. Inches. In. Girth,” he said, enunciating each word. When Geoffrey opened his mouth again he hastily added, “At the base!”

Geoffrey smiled absently, nodding as he noted down the figures carefully. Merlin steeled himself with a slow breath.

“It has a slight curve to the left,” he continued stoically, “of about ten degrees.”

“That is well within the normal range,” Gaius cut in smoothly when Uther’s brows drew down, “Indeed, your own is something of a rarity, your majesty.”

A look of horror flickered across Arthur’s face.

“Yes, um...Well. When it is flaccid, the f-foreskin covers the head, but it can be, um... manually retracted,” Merlin said, squirming at the memory of sitting at eyelevel with Arthur’s cock and gently pushing his foreskin back and forth. His hands had been clammy and he’d had to wipe them on his trousers before he started. The quill made a quiet scratching noise against the parchment.

He swallowed and glanced up at Arthur, who met his gaze for a brief moment before flicking his eyes away and shifting his hips minutely. The blush now burned across both Arthur’s cheeks and began creeping down his neck. A thick snake of humiliation and mild arousal that had been forming over the last fifteen minutes twisted in Merlin’s belly.

“When he was aroused-” Merlin cut off when he saw Arthur shift again. “Errr. Yes. Um, when it became erect, the head was fully exposed without needing to be, ah...”

He looked at Gaius helplessly, who just smiled at him again.

“What I mean is, um... The foreskin spontaneously retracts when his ah... penis is erect, so that the glans is completely, um, uncovered, without the foreskin needing to be moved manually.”

Arthur curled a hand in the fabric of his trousers, high on his left thigh. It had been the worst part of the whole ordeal, in Merlin’s opinion; sitting on that low stool between Arthur’s knees with an hourglass at his feet, trying to ignore the soft sound of quickened breathing and the rhythmic slide of skin just in front of him. He had been able to see the bob of Arthur’s cock out of the corner of his eye as he stroked himself. Merlin adjusted his stance, wishing he could shift his breeches a little. Unconsciously he lifted a hand to his crotch, fiddling with the end of one of the laces, but forced it back to his side when he saw Arthur move again in his seat.

“Very good. And his scrotum?” Uther asked.

“A meaningful measurement of the scrotum is difficult to acquire, sire,” said Gaius, “given the tendency for it to fluctuate in size, so Merlin took a measurement of his testicles, using an instrument of my own design.”

A close second in terms of awkward experiences in doing this assessment was the excruciating process of comparing Arthur’s testicles of string of beads in various sizes that Gaius had given him, rolling the silky globes in his fingers as Arthur breathed heavily through his nose.

“Excellent work, Gaius.” There was a short pause. Gaius cleared his throat pointedly.

“Oh. They were around, um, two inches long, one inch wide and one inch high, sire,” said Merlin.

“Any abnormalities?” asked Geoffrey with the quill hovering above the parchment.

“No, they were quite...” _Soft. Delicate. Lickable. NO!_   “quite normal, sire.”

“Very good. You have been most thorough. Now, where is the sample?” Uther asked. Arthur jerked his head towards his father with an alarmed expression on his face.

“Th-the sample, sire?”

Merlin had a horrible feeling he knew what the king wanted a sample of. _Oh God_ , he thought as that thick snake in his belly writhed a little faster.

“Yes, Merlin. Where is the prince’s semen sample?”

 _Oh fuck._

*

  
When Gaius returned to his chambers an hour later, Merlin was pacing frantic circles around the room.

“Gaius!” he said urgently, “I can’t do it. I can’t watch him – I mean, it was bad enough having to – Oh god...”

He ran a hand through his hair. By the state of it, it wasn’t the first time.

“Merlin,” Gaius said sternly, “if the king wants to see the prince’s semen, then you must get a sample of it.”

“But Gaius -”

“The topic is not up for discussion. It’s just semen, it won’t bite you.”

“For Christ’s sake, stop saying it!” Merlin hissed.

“Saying what, semen?” Gaius asked. Merlin groaned. “Really Merlin, I thought you were above all that, but this morning in the council meeting you were carrying on like a virgin in a whorehouse.”

“Look – oh, you don’t understand.”

“Understand what exactly?”

 _You won’t have worry about whether you’ll be able to look Arthur in the eye again_ , he thought furiously. _You didn’t have to touch him and measure him and commit minute details of his_ penis _to memory. I’ve been close enough to his cock that I could make a bloody replica of it._

“Never mind.”

Merlin flopped onto the bench with a sigh of resignation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes.

“When does he want it?” he asked.

“First thing tomorrow.”

Merlin laughed ruefully. _Fuck._

“Come on,” said Gaius, “help me fix lunch. I’ve got a leg of ham left over from the feast the other week.”

*

  
By the time lunch was prepared, Merlin had managed to distract himself from thoughts of the council meeting, letting himself get caught up in slicing bread and ham and cheese.

“I am glad you haven’t decided to take up a career as a surgeon, Merlin,” said Gaius, lifting a rather mangled slice of ham off the chopping board and raising his eyebrow. Merlin rolled his eyes and shoved a piece of cheese in his mouth.

“It was a stressful morning.”

“Indeed. Actually, come to think of it, make sure you bring Arthur a hearty dinner this evening. He’s training the knights later today and he’ll need to keep his strength up if he’s to-”

“Yes Gaius,” Merlin interrupted, as the cheese seemed to go thick and claggy in his mouth. Swallowing was difficult.

“And don’t speak with your mouth full,” Gaius said tetchily.

“Yes Gaius,” said Merlin, biting off a hunk of bread. The afternoon would be interminable, he just knew it.

*

  
For most residents of Camelot, the afternoon was a decidedly pleasant one. The sun was warm and bright, the breeze cool and gentle, and for the first time in six months, Uther was smiling as he listening to the afternoon audiences. Or at least, he gave the outward appearance of listening. In actual fact, he was silently congratulating himself for fathering such a fine example of masculinity. _Eight inches!_ Such a size on a Pendragon had not been seen for at least sixty years. He hummed merrily at the thought.

“- your majesty, the beast has already snatched away the thatcher’s daughter, and old Hilda’s nephew. We must protect our families!”

Uther was jerked back to the present by the peasant woman’s voice.

“A beast, you say? Oh, very well. Inform the prince, he can inspect your village on his next patrol,” he said a little peevishly. He was enjoying reminiscing about his own examinations and did not appreciate this woman’s interruption. Now... clearly Arthur deserved some sort of reward. A new stallion perhaps, in honour of his virility?

*

  
Several floors below the audience chamber, in the cool gloom of the library, Geoffrey also sat happily mulling over the morning’s events. There was something very right to him in keeping such detailed notes of the prince’s state of health. He had kept the records of the king’s seasonal examinations since his coronation, and it was proper that now Arthur was of age, his examinations were to be archived too. It was such a disappointment that Arthur’s manservant seemed so squeamish – he mentioned nothing of the colour or texture of the prince’s impressive manhood, nor did he provide any illustrations. Utterly ridiculous. And the debacle with the sample. Geoffrey tutted quietly to himself. At least he would have it by the morning.

Stretching the cramps out in his fingers, he gazed up at the shelves on the opposite wall. It was his favourite part of the archive, with its neat rows of glass bottles, carefully labelled and referenced. Some were so old that the glass had clouded over and the contents dried up, but towards the right they were clean and clear, each meticulously sealed with cork and wax to protect the pearly white liquid within. With an absent smile, he bent back over the narrow strip of paper on his desk.

‘Uther Pendragon,’ he wrote, ‘forty-second year. Spring.’

*

  
Despite being the object of so many people’s contented thoughts, Arthur himself was feeling quite out of sorts. The sun was in his eyes, his armour was chafing and each clang of steel was like a hammer-blow behind to the back of his skull. The council meeting had been... uncomfortable, and try as he might to focus on the fluid movements of the knights before him, he couldn’t get the image of Merlin, stammering and blushing so endearingly, out of his head. It wasn’t that Merlin had seen him naked or even that he’d seen him hard – he’d had a manservant since he was old enough to walk, after all. In any case, Merlin saw him naked at least once a week when he had his bath, and had walked in on him a time or two when he was helping a chambermaid find something she’d - _ahem_ \- lost something up her skirt... It was more that Merlin was forced to take note of him, actually _see_ his body and observe its changes when he was aroused. And then when he reported to the council, it was so obvious that he could still see it and remember the way Arthur’s cock had jumped when he’d laid the tape measure alongside it, and the little pearl of pre-come that had formed at its head when his fingers brushed Arthur’s balls.

Even remembering it now made his stomach clench in a way that was disturbingly enjoyable. In a lesser man, the sensation might be called a flutter, but such feeble reactions had been bred out of the Pendragon line generations ago. The whole process had been embarrassing and more than a little bit arousing, and damn it all, he gone blindingly hard in front of his father and the entire council just hearing Merlin mention his foreskin! To make matters worse, his plans to have a quick wank before training were disrupted when he returned to his chambers to find a small army of servants exchanging his thick velvet drapes with lighter cotton ones for summer. He could have ordered them out, but the castle’s chamberlain was a fearsome woman and had been known to ‘lose’ all of Arthur’s undergarments in the laundry when she was displeased. So Arthur had gingerly donned his thickest pair of trousers and settled for picturing various old, fat members of the court until he had tamed his rebellious body into a fit state.

Little good it did him, though, given that he had to endure Merlin dressing him in his armour, close enough that he could smell the faint scent of soap and herbs wafting off his skin. Merlin had been unusually clumsy, struggling with every buckle and Arthur couldn’t help wondering if he was also a bit flustered by the proximity. In the end, all his efforts in picturing Lady Ethel naked were for nothing - by the time Merlin had finished buckling on his greaves and had looked up at him from where he was kneeling at Arthur’s feet, Arthur was as hard as he had been that morning.

Which was why he was feeling so wretched now, standing in full sun and sweating profusely, trying desperately not to think about what he’d be doing that evening in front of his manservant, and especially not thinking about whether said manservant might enjoy it as much as Arthur feared he might like him watching.

*

  
The sight that greeted Arthur when he returned to his chambers that evening did little to improve his mood. Training had been intolerable – the knights had been entirely too distractible, gadding about like children in the sunshine; he had lost to Sir Leon for the first time in years (who had the gall to say it was perfectly understandable, he’d had a stressful morning after all), and his cock had taken such a keen interest in the day’s proceedings that his balls ached from the strain of it. So to arrive back to find Merlin on his hands and knees, carefully sweeping ash out of the back of the fireplace and wiggling his bottom about suggestively as he stretched forward to reach the far wall... It really was too much. _Oh, sweet baby Jesus_ , Arthur could see the muscles in his thighs flex with each wide arc of the brush. His mouth went dry and his cock twitched pathetically.

“Merlin-”

He cleared his throat. There was a dull thud as Merlin smacked his head against the inside of the fireplace.

“Merlin,” Arthur said again, his voice mercifully staying in its proper octave this time, “I think I will have an early dinner tonight, fetch it for me after you’ve brought up some water for bathing.”

Merlin backed out of the fireplace slowly, looking skittish and adorable with scruffy hair and soot on his nose.

“Do you want me to bring the bath?” Merlin sounded a little alarmed, not that Arthur blamed him. The last thing the world he wanted was to expose himself to that guileless, blue-eyed gaze.

“No no, a quick rub down is all I need,” Arthur cringed inwardly at his choice of words, “I can... um, w-with a cloth, I mean.”

 _Gods above!_

Merlin nodded dumbly.

“And wash your face before you bring my dinner up,” Arthur said, “you’ve got a – with- the soot...” he waved a hand at Merlin as his voice trailed off. Damn him and his dirty face.

They spent an awkward moment not looking at each other.

“Right,” Merlin said loudly, “I’ll go and do that now then. I’ll be back in about half an hour,” and scampered from the room.

Arthur chose not to ponder what Merlin might be doing for the extra twenty-five minutes he would not need to wipe his face.

*

  
Contrary to what Arthur was decidedly not thinking, Merlin did not go back to his room for a wank. He had tried that already. Three times. Every time his cock started to swell, thinking what it might be like to see Arthur with his hand in his breeches ( _or will he take them off, perhaps? Maybe he’ll be completely naked... oh god_ ), he also thought about what Arthur would do if he saw Merlin with an erection from watching him beat off. And then his dick would wilt, at a rather spectacular speed (Geoffrey would be impressed, no doubt) at his mortification. He put a hand to his belly, which had begun churning ominously.

“Merlin! What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the prince!” Gaius said, bustling into Merlin’s room. “You must be there to view the ejaculation, the king demands a witness to attest to it.”

“I – I don’t think I can,” Merlin said weakly. He gave Gaius an imploring look.

“Now now, this is no time to get squeamish.”

“Can’t you do it? Please, Gaius!” Merlin shifted from foot to foot, wringing his – now clean - hands.

“Don’t be ridiculous Merlin, you have a duty to perform as much as Arthur does and I won’t tolerate you shirking” Gaius said, starting to sound a bit cross, “Now come here. I have prepared everything you will need.”

He gestured to the table which had an array of vials and dishes, as well as –

“Is that a _bladder_?”

“Ah yes, well spotted Merlin. That is, in fact, a pig bladder. I brought you selection of vessels so you and the prince could experiment and work out what works best for collecting the sample.”

“Works best,” Merlin repeated flatly.

“Indeed. The use of a pig bladder was a technique I devised myself. It is particularly useful if the subject finds it difficult to aim. I often use it when I collect the ki-”

“Of course,” Merlin cut in hastily. _Oh well_ , he though, _if I get hard this evening, I can always picture Uther coming into a pig bladder_. He shuddered. “What else do I need?”

“Well,” said Gaius, rubbing his hands together, “here is the bottle that the sample will be stored in – you will need to decant the ejaculate into it with this,” he held up a funnel, “and use a piece of cork to stopper it. There’s no need to force the cork too much, I will be doing some tests on it before handing it over to Geoffrey to archive.”

“A-archive?”

“Yes Merlin. You know, we hold the finest collection of semen in all of Albion,” Gaius said proudly, “Now remember, don’t dally with decanting the ejaculate, lest it starts to congeal. Then you’d have a very sticky mess on your hands.”

Bloody hell. There was no need for Gaius to look so nostalgic.

“And finally, given that this will be a first for both of you, I have taken the liberty of picking out some oil, which I have found very soothing to the more bashful members of the court. Just be careful that you don’t contaminate the sample with it, especially if the prince requires the bladder. Geoffrey would be most displeased.”

*

  
Twenty minutes later, Merlin stumbled out of Gaius quarters holding a large cloth sack that clinked as he walked. He thought Gwen might have said something to him on his way down to the kitchens to fetch Arthur’s bathing water, but his head was too full of words like _ejaculation_ and _stimulate_ and _lubrication_ and (god help him) _archive_ to really be aware of anything. It was going to be the worst night of his life.

*

  
Arthur was not pacing. The prince of Camelot did not pace. However, he was known to take brisk walks around the room to improve his circulation. Particularly when he was stressed.

“So... how do you want to do this?” asked Merlin hesitantly, gesturing at the little display of jars and bowls and – _was that a bladder?_ – on the table.

Arthur forced himself to face Merlin. He had fought dragons and armies of skeletons, a big-eared idiot was nothing in comparison.

“Like we did last time?” Merlin pointed at his chair with a limp finger. Arthur exhaled slowly, set his jaw and stalked over to it. _Armies of skeletons, Arthur, armies of them. All you need to do here is wank at your manservant._

“Erm- do you think you’ll need.....” Merlin had lifted up the saggy bit of membrane between his thumb and forefinger, holding it gingerly.

Arthur made a face, “I’d rather not.”

Merlin looked relieved and began fussing about with bowls and vials.

“Gaius said that it might help if you used this,” he said, picking up a little bottle of oil. “It, um... helps, apparently,” he made a tunnel with the fingers on his right hand and jiggled them back and forth, and then seemed to realise what he was doing and turned a spectacular shade of scarlet, “h-h-helps with making it smoother....”

“Oh, give it here, you idiot,” Arthur said, reaching out with one hand and fumbling with the laces on his breeches with the other, “might as well get it over with.”

There was a loud crash as Merlin dropped the thick ceramic bowl his was holding. He passed over the oil with shaking hands, trying not to stare as Arthur wiggled his hand under the fabric of his pants.

“I-I’ll just go and-” His voice broke, “a-a-and lock the doors, shall I?”

*

  
The sun rose bright and early the next morning, shining merrily over Camelot as her residents dragged themselves out of bed to face the day. In the castle, servants had been up since before dawn, lighting fires and preparing breakfasts – all servants, but one. When Gaius got up, shortly after dawn, and began the painful process of rousing Merlin, he was surprised to find his room empty and the bed obviously unslept in. He eyed it shrewdly. He wouldn’t put it past Merlin to hide in the stables to avoid doing his chores. If he had, Gaius would have him mashing toad liver for the rest of the week.

*

  
A few floors below, Geoffrey pottered about in the library, humming to himself as he set out his quill and ink, wax and twine, and his big, dusty book with the words The Great Semen Archive of Camelot embossed proudly on the cover. It was unusual for him to be up this early – he tended to stay up late into the night, poring over books and making neat little marks against lists, but he’d been unable to sleep the night before and woken often, until he finally gave the scheme up and went downstairs. His insomnia, at least, was quite understandable. He lived a quiet life in his old age, (though in years past he had been known to be rather dashing) with few things to disturb it’s peaceful monotony, so the prospect of receiving the prince’s first semen specimen was more than enough to get him in a bit of a flutter.

He didn’t allow himself to think about what the morning’s meeting would being, lest he make himself sick with excitement, so he busied himself with dusting off the older parts of the semen collection, which were too fragile to let the servants clean. When that was finished, he took up an old, leather-bound tome and began scanning it, making notes on a wax tablet beside him. He was in the middle of writing his magnum opus, a complete history of the archive, and this research had been his dearest treat for many years. He didn’t work on it continuously – his duties as curate of the finest semen collection in all of Albion were not light, after all – but whenever he felt cast down or overwhelmed or he just needed a little cheer, writing out a few pages of his great masterpiece had always soothed him no end.

After nearly an hour of reading, he pulled out another, even thicker book and set it out on his desk. Taking up his quill, he began to write:

 _The origins of Camelot’s Great Archive are shrouded in myth, which echo down the generations in songs and epic ballads. However, we do know that around two hundred and seventy years ago, Artorius Pen Draig, praefectus of Camelot (then known as Caerleon), began to store his manly excretions in jars, after a jealous sorceress cast a spell that made his excretions rise up and strangle him..._

*

  
By the time the sun was a quarter of the way to its zenith, Gaius had searched all of Merlin’s usual hideouts, to no avail; Geoffrey had written half a chapter of his magnum opus (covering the legends of Artorius and the vengeful sorceress) and then begun research on what physical characteristics might be inferred from the tales (that he was hung like a horse), and Uther summoned his council.

“Where is Prince Arthur?” Uther asked, once Geoffrey had arrived and settled himself, “I distinctly recall telling him that he must be present for these meetings. Send a servant to fetch him.”

A servant was dispatched and returned about twenty minutes later with a very tired and dishevelled, but nevertheless relaxed Arthur in toe. Merlin burst in about a minute later, looking much like the prince, save for, where the prince appeared thoroughly shagged, Merlin looked frantic and harried.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” he panted as he approached the dais, “I had mislaid one of the specimen jars.”

He bowed low and presented a pair of stoppered bottles, full to the brim with pearly liquid. The room went silent, save for a shocked intake of breath from the vicinity of the table.

“I must also apologise, sire, for not bringing it all,” Merlin said, “I did not realise I would need quite so many vessels to store it in.”

The room was still deadly quiet, so he risked a glance around the room from under his lashes. The council appeared to be frozen where they sat. Gaius looked at the prince with bulging eyes. Geoffrey seemed to have swooned. A strange noise from the throne made him turn to the king – was he _laughing_? Were there _tears_ running down his face?

“Not at all, my good man, not at all,” Uther said, beaming. He turned to Arthur, “Two bottles? And on your first time too! This calls for a celebration. We will hold a feast!”

Arthur smiled dopily at his father, his eyes a bit unfocused in a post-coital glaze. Merlin cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, sire,” he said, “If I may, I have some further details of Prince Arthur’s manhood that I would like to pass on, as they only came to light during last night’s examination.”

Gaius had managed to coax Geoffrey out of his swoon with smelling salts, and he sat up, still a little shaky, supported by Gaius’ hand on his shoulder.

“Please, go ahead dear boy,” he said, reaching for his inkpot.

“Firstly,” Merlin said, looking Arthur right in the eye and smirking, “I can confirm that the prince can ejaculate at least five times in one evening. I say at least, because this was what he achieved last night, but I believe with proper... training,” his smile turned wicked, “this number could be increased to as many as seven times in a single evening.”

Geoffrey scribbled frantic notes onto the parchment in front of him.

“Secondly, I found that he can ejaculate with great force. I did not bring a rule to measure the distance, but I can safely say that it is well over a metre.”

Gaius noticed that Merlin’s right eye seemed a little bloodshot as he rubbed it absently.

“Thirdly, I took the liberty of doing a prostate examination and -”

The rest of what Merlin had to say was lost in the commotion as Geoffrey fainted again, completely overcome in his excitement. Arthur looked at Merlin and jerked his head towards the door. They made their escape in the confusion, Arthur loudly informing him of the need to practise his 'hand-to-hand combat'.

They flopped back against the wall outside, gazing at each other with warm, indulgent smiles. As they turned towards Arthur’s chambers, the king’s voice floated out to them:

“Gaius, send for the Lady Morgana’s maid. I wish to hear her report.”

FIN.


End file.
